Ode to the Crimson Sparrow
by Rambo Kirby
Summary: Suzaku narrowly escapes death and reflects over his loss to Yusuke, ultimately allowing himself to fall in love. Along the way Yusuke finds himself struggling with his own emotions concerning Keiko and Botan.
1. A Rolling Dream

**Disclaimer:** It should be obvious I didn't create Yu Yu Hakusho; these things are stupid.

**Chapter I: A Rolling Dream...**

* * *

Thunder permeated through the magnificent skies above me. The subtle whisk of rain soothed my shallow breaths. Cold surged through my cheeks from the stone floor; it was a comforting distraction from the loss of feeling in my body. In distinction the sneering pain in my chest onwards, there was a rapid decline in my body's ability to process the information around it. Nerves were either dying or delving into a requiem of limpid nix. Seven replications, all equally fearsome, shot down with a singular attack. And this, this was the end result; death. Yet for hours on end, I lied dazed and motionless in solitude.

I do not know if it was my will to survive or naturally superior physiology, but I refused to acknowledge my undoing as being so trivial. Such a lowly attack damaged my antennae, leaving only my overconfidence to blame. So blinded by my own upper hand that I hadn't noticed its effects on the battle until the boy had already laid siege. I who possessed the mastery of the highest levels of sorcery was slain by a human; a human. What compelled my opponent to so drastically increase his power? The girl—love for that girl. Despite his depleted energy, he was able to conjure just enough to win the battle—all thanks to that girl, and that in itself may have been his very downfall. No human, no demon could draw on their absolute essence for a final blow and expect to live, but my vision was too obstructed to peer around for a body and verify the inevitable.

The entirety of the fight played back in my mind. Once then twice, anger rushed over the recollections. With strength and intelligence tenfold that of such a meager opponent, someone of my caliber should have been able to see the faults chain reacting in the methodology I had so chosen to encumber myself in. Somewhere during the events replaying in my mind I noticed an anomaly. My antenna had cracked, much due to my own carelessness, but remained so even after the restoration process. Pure fodder; something was amidst, but my condition prevented a capable inspection.

Still—no matter how many times the incident repeated—despite my frustration one thing always remained consistent; Yusuke's valor. His ability to adapt was splendid, and for that I commemorated him. Aptitude of a human bond was something of a marvel, as I bared witnessed firsthand. Were demons capable of such feats? Or were we all destined to our own concurrent and habitual practices? Even I, so supreme in stature and imperious in arts of sorcery, could not overcome that delegate of human nature.

The remaining life energy inside of me had dwindled, death was brooding overhead. Out of the seven of us... the seven of us. If one or two of them still had any life energy left, I would be able to replenish myself and rise once more! How could I have overlooked something so blunt? It seemed a reoccurring trend. Concentration. That's all that was required, just a little concentration to feel for any remainder of energy in the vicinity. Barely so, but enough to perhaps live another day and maybe gain feeling in my arms. A sudden jolt and there, pressure popped underneath my skin.

With a moments hesitation, my elbows bent as my palms pressed to the floor; lifting my body with a quiver. Mucus built in my throat, forcing a spell of coughs that produced a burning sensation within my near my trachea. Blood trickled in veins to the ground, bleeding to my fingertips. Somehow I managed to fall rest at my calves, peering around the room with swaying vision. He vanished; he was alive. Damned impossible, ha-ha.

The blast destroyed nearly the entirety of the keep. Labyrinthine Castle had lost its throne, no doubt leading to an eventual criminal escapade for kingship. Too bad, the Insect Flute must have been vaporized in the explosion—alongside my opportunity to breach the barrier. Only Murugu could slip... Murugu. Had the blast annihilated her as well? Was I left with a meager nix? No, my life was testament enough to disprove such a statement.

No longer would I reside in Labyrinthine Castle, nor would sulking substitute my will. He who is without the volition to primitively dwell in denial, is the one that holds no pressure driven by the anger that produces haste. Still, even considering my weakened state, the barrier would not permit my absence from the the Labyrinthine prison. Without Murugu or Genbu it would be impossible to communicate outside the castle walls. Yet, there I was, a demon whose power and reputation proceeded himself, trapped in an archaic maze dying of solitude.

Despite my vanity being the cause behind what would be considered a decisive loss, it triggered something beautiful. The power in my possession was not just limited to sheer strength, but also many black arts. Hundreds of years spent mastering the most difficult of techniques, including that of necromancy. If only there was a trace of Murugu around, then... then my plans would fall into motion.

Knees trembling, I managed to stand with the aid of the wall. Such ruins were no place for someone of my regard—recovery was too dragging. Grudgingly I trekked forward, each groove of the fractured wall passing my hand by and feeling as though they were accomplished milestones.

Only one feather, that would suffice. But, nothing. Nothing at all. Scattered debris on fire was the only distinguishable marker. It was a perfect manifestation of how my body felt. Burning grew in my thighs the longer I stood, as breathing sharpened with each deeper breath.

I had to rest—there would be some time before the news would circulate, not to mention the secondary news of my survival—however weakened—would ultimately coincide. Was I making sense? How would any demon know of my plans. In all likeliness it would be intelligence of my fatigue, thereupon spawning hundreds of challengers. Even so, what I needed was... rest. So much that my body collapsed from under me. As my vision blurred, a stretch of green shone to me from the fires, roasting, but not burning. That lone image became clouded with darkness, until my mind echoed away.

* * *

Wind swirled around me, grazing my arms and cheek—producing gelid dances that carried over them. Eyes opening, I could feel the aches in my body subsiding. There was an unusual ambiance surrounding the airs, threatening the lesser demonic forces around the labyrinthine perimeter. Standing, with a stretch, my senses directed me to an adequate force of power heading my way, traversing through the castle.

It was beginning—the word of three, or perhaps even four of the Holy Saint Beasts' deaths. What a hellish surprise my dominion would come to their inept minds. That is to say, if my person would remain either solitary or stationary for any impending arrivals. There had to have been a trace of Murugu, even if she had been vaporized, a stray feather or hair follicle would not have escaped the vicinity of the room explicitly. With her ability to seep undetected into the humans' world, it would not be difficult to find a breach that would allow my entrance. There was a chance, however minute, that the philistines in Spirit World still had an opening in the barrier—especially if Yusuke and his camaraderie had not indeed fully vacated the premise.

Still, making sense of the debris was far more tedious than I had anticipated. A dream insinuated that reaching into a fire would have provided me the necessary materials for my obstacle's obstruction. If only. No fire continued to sprawl forth. Either it held no value, and was a simple euphoric wondering of my mind, or... or it held no significance to the fire itself, but the location! Scrambling through the fractured bricks and tiles adjacent to where I had slipped into unconsciousness, my thoughts could only dwell on the hope that the premonition ensnared.

Incredible! Half of a feather, albeit singed lineation. Even then, the likelihood of a premonition existing within something as haphazard as a dream was farfetched. Something or someone had directed that vision to me. A mystery for another time, as the necromantic process held far greater importance.

Channeling my demonic energy, the feather began to glow hues of scarlet and violet. With my hands interlaced centerfold, thumbs crossed and out—index fingers pointed away—and feather vertical in grasp; the air wavered, heat sweltering as demon energy splurged in spirals. Soon it was completely engulfed, the demonic energy changing its very shape. What was once a sliced feather had transmogrified itself into a blob of rotating light. While I expected the blob's silhouette to take the form of a bird, it began to expand in a most peculiar of ways, limbs sprouting from what appeared an ample thorax.

Flashes of magenta and yellow raved from a standing humanoid figurine, maybe one tenth of a meter shorter compared to my own height. A second or two later and the strobes died down to a scanty glisten. Features of a face developed as clarity increased. Stepping toward me, the gloss attenuated away as though it were an afterimage. Elongated Tyrian purple hair hung to its shoulders, falling back double in length. The skin tone was pale, but not too pale; exactly as my own. Then there were it- her eyes, a simmering green that appeared nearly out of place. Clothing was the last attribute to distinguish itself, a white dress, cutting off just atop her knees with a golden pattern circling the ends. The dress met an amber rope that tied itself in a bow at the side, leading up to parting from the bustline up the shoulders.

"Lord Suzaku," she pledged, voice sweet as honey, kneeling down on one knee with her head bowed and arm across her chest.

"Murugu?" I questioned, my eyes widened and jaw beginning to fall slenderly.

"Am I another?" she tilted her head up to view me.

"That's quite a profuse question to ask, is it not?" I cautiously stepped to her.

"Does this form bother you?" her voice was unusually calm, devoid of any cheer or pride.

"No, but it is unusual," I stopped in front of her, nodding for her to stand.

"Did I die?" she asked in a whisper, rubbing her thumb to her index finger.

"That's the assumption, considering your only remain consisted of a mere tarnished feather," my voice wavered not, standing still as not to bid weakness a melody.

"The human boy? He must have destroyed the whistle too. I'm sorry..." she shifted her gaze to the concurrently open spaces where walls should have been.

"Unfortunately, yes. Needn't you apologize my dear Murugu, as there still may be time to breach the border," I turned away as she blushed, looking out at the distant mountains.

"And I am to find this breach before it's sealed?"

"Are you capable in this form? Any spy I held under my allegiance has likely committed treason at this point. You're the only one I can trust." My face swayed back to her.

For a moment she stared at the ground, cheeks reddened and skin around flushed. "Possibly."

"Good. I trust scouting for its whereabouts wouldn't be too dangerous?" I pondered aloud to her.

"Contrary to your belief, this body is not as brittle as it appears; I always had the ability to transform, but seldom preferred to," she took in a breath, sighing and thereafter grabbing my forearms. "Suzaku..."

Feeling the heat in my chest charge upwards, I froze. Chills traveled down my backside, making for a rather uncomfortable temperature amalgam. Did the humans hold words for such a formidable grouping of feelings? Murugu would not clutch my person if not for a reason of dire pertinence. Perhaps it was worry for her immediacy, hope that she bared no consequences. Worry. I could not recall ever worrying for another before. "Murugu...?"

Sparkles formed in the crests of her bottom eyelids, an oddity I held little familiarity to. Silence created a tension that forced the development of a sweat drop on my temple. Never before outside of battle had such a physical alteration overtaken me. Breathing became difficult as I anticipated her next move. Sensations heightened, such as the warmth radiating from her hands to my arms. There was no remembrance of any singular entity sharing with me their warmth.

Then it happened. She pressed her lips to mine, applying a pressure that produced a form of pleasure. Instinctively I returned the favor. So gentle and soft, her lips may as well have been tender clouds. I hadn't experienced anything quite as mesmerizing; it left me lost in reverie, wondering about the significance of the exchange. Affection was something new, perhaps even innovative to my character. What reason did Murugu have to bestow unto me such a display of fondness?

As she pulled away emptiness rattled my bones. Humans held bonds with one another, with similar artifacts of affection. Was that part of Yusuke's motivation to tap into his life energy? Presumably, she noticed my distraction, letting go of my arms; and staring out in the direction of the breeze. Pressing my thumb to her cheek, I asked her, "Do you look away because you believe I resent you for your actions?"

"Do you?" she turned to me, eyebrows arching toward one another.

"No, I cannot say that I do; although I also cannot understand your feelings. Tell me, Murugu, what do they mean?" I inquired, my body temperature still pulsating.

"Is it not obvious?" she pursed her lips for a moment as she took a blink for several seconds.

"I believe it's safe to assume affection is not something I am necessarily qualified to give insight on," I attempted to smile, but unsure as to why.

"Love Suzaku, love," she said bluntly, gulping upon the last syllable leaving her mouth.

"Love?" I asked myself aloud. She loved me... So many questions darted through my mind, such as the time period concerning such feelings, but more importantly, why?

"I don't know how else to put it," she placed her hands behind her back, bowing her head.

Power alone had been my conquest, coinciding the pleasures and luxuries it entailed. Selfish was the only synonym that came to mind. My narrow defeat by such a weaker foe could not sheerly be attributed to overconfidence and underestimation, no, he had more to live for than I did; it compelled him to push further and save the day. This conclusion was no surprise, nor the first time it had been recollected. An opportunity was presenting itself, a way to have more to strive for—to live for.

Letting out a deep breath, I wrapped my arms around her, whereby she laid her head in the crook of my neck and returned the gesture. Before long tiny bits of water ran from her eyes to my neckline. There would be but two rational explanations to her tears; happiness or sadness. Considering I answered her call from a mutual line, the former was more than likely the case. Regardless, I stroked her back to ensure comfort.


	2. A Pale Tomorrow

**Disclaimer:** It should be obvious I didn't create Yu Yu Hakusho; these things are stupid.

**Chapter II: A Pale Tomorrow**

* * *

Several hours and Murugu hadn't returned, much to the perpetuation of churns unfolding in my stomach. If the keep hadn't fallen prey to the eye of destruction there would have been leeway to relieve the anxiety, that is to say, my ability to cast my view to those of great distance was no longer an option. If by an unusual chance there happened to exist a crystalline fragment of some sort, then and only then would the possibility of extending my sights become realistic.

Dwelling on the realm of possibilities, I paced in crestfallen footsteps. Too much noise would detract from my eavesdropping, thus nullifying any sign of her arrival. Brooding forces still lurked below, yet I could not be bothered with them. Given my mood, their luck would run thin with a swift execution. No singular event would provide reason enough to distort my intentions, especially if by any means harm were to graze her flesh.

Worry was a mental famine—intrinsic to the believer and his oppositions, with the latter utilizing it as an opportunistic catalyst. Always my enemies had either been driven before me or outright crushed. A parallel could be drawn, one from both Yusuke's strength and weakness. Keiko's struggle for survival proved to heighten his fighting abilities, yet as that struggle swallowed her whole his world shook violently. A double edged sword one might presume, with the handler beginning to bleed upon the initial grip, but swinging the blade with twice the vigor.

Considering the conditions of Hiei and Kurama, there would be little haste in making their way through and out of the Demon City. Adjusting for each variable was too uncertain of a process, leaving more room open for speculation as opposed to logical algorithms. Confinement to such an abysmal cubical had overstayed its welcome. Desperation seemed to sink in, with the flute went my last chance for freedom. Fear was Spirit World's only incentive, and without it, their attention would drift elsewhere.

A tap on my shoulder jolted my body to stiffen. Out of the entire time I had my senses perked, the one moment I let my guard down she arrived. To be idiosyncratic to another is natural, but to be one to oneself is a step in either evolution or devolution.

"Do I frighten you?" she removed her hand from my shoulder.

"No, not at all. It was something else," my voice staggered for a moment as I turned to her.

"Something... else?" she raised her hand to her chest, index knuckle bent forward faintly.

"It's quite a foreign feeling, you know?" I sighed and titled my head, allowing my bangs to cover my eyes.

"Foreign feeling?" her voice lamented.

"Worry," I stated as blunt as possible.

"You were worried of me? You don't have t-..." she began, but quieted herself the moment my eyes resuscitated to plain view. With a nod she touched my cheek, running her fingers down to my chin. So dainty and pale were her hands to my flesh, numbing away all the grievous trepidation.

"You were gone for quite some time Murugu, I really wasn't sure what to expect upon your return," I told her, taking her hand from my face and entwining it with my own.

"Yes, but only to verify my own surprisal," her words muffled a giggle.

"Surprisal?" I questioned, rubbing my thumb to her palm.

"The barrier had been constructed to incarcerate the Holy Saint Beasts," she paused, her grin widening. "If all four were to be presumed deceased, then a barrier would ultimately serve no purpose."

She was right! If the threat was eliminated, then a barrier would only serve as refuse. Demon World held no restraints to my person, but the Human World would not be such an easy code to crack. Time was of no importance in the interim however, as there was no longer a cage to contain my will. "That's excellent news, simply resplendent. How did you come to observe this?" I inquired with a grin.

"The traitorous scents of Hiei and Kurama were not difficult to track, especially with the intermingling aromas of the two humans. While the breach had been sealed—as noted by their trails ending abruptly in the sky—there was a number of... peculiar individuals gathered below," she cleared her throat, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear.

"Peculiar?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, very much so. A lanky demon was the focus of the group, with a diminutive creature perched upon his shoulder. For hours I eavesdropped, coming to understand their purpose in Demon World..." she hesitated, biting her bottom lip.

"What's wrong?" I applied a slight magnitude of pressure to her hand.

"Their leader, he was a demon whom did not hold a solid body. Some type of holographic imagery, but regardless, he was terrifying. His associates were discussing the whereabouts of the two humans that had infiltrated the Demon City—which may I add was in a rather chaotic state and still is—going over the details of luring them into a tournament of some sorts," she took a moderate breath, "but... the form he took that projected itself was gruesome, emitting direful amounts of demonic energy; so much that the projection machinery exploded," she explained, arms beginning to shake.

"I take it something was mentioned about Spirit World's involvement with the barrier," I gathered, unsure as to whether such a foe would truly be as frightening as she made it out to be.

"Yes, that came up early on in the conversation. Have you ever heard of the Dark Tournament, Lord Suzaku?" she asked while attempting to mask her trills.

"Needn't you either tremble or dignify me as your Lord," I sighed, placing my free hand upon her shoulder. "Only hearsay on the matter of the tournament, personally I never thought it to exist."

Calming herself with a stroke of breaths, she let a petite laugh swirl from underneath her lip. "He was absolutely horrifying Suzaku, horrifying," she fell into my chest, enveloping a hug. Her tone reflected no traces of helplessness or fear, in fact it resolved to be one of comfort and amnesty from such partitions.

"According to legend, the Dark Tournament is a place where demons of all shapes and sizes enter the Human World to compete against one another. Wealthy businessmen are said to gamble on the outcomes of each bout, suggesting foul play to say the least," I scoffed, allowing her to press herself to me farther.

"In case you were wondering, I believe the demon's name was Toguro. I don't know if that means anything to you though," she informed me, rubbing her head against my neckline.

"I'm afraid it bares no familiarity, but I doubt it'll be a name I'll soon forget," I stroked the back of her head, running my fingers through her locks.

"What do we do now?"

"I feel it necessary to gather a few artifacts before we leave this place," I broke our embrace, motioning for her to follow me.

* * *

"This world flourishes in such different array than our own," she spoke, veering towards me.

"Yes, I believe you're right. They all act and behave in such inconsistencies," I stood atop the bluff, wind rustling through my hair.

With a moment of silence between us, she rested her head on my shoulder and spoke to me, "The peaceful skies are captivating—I wouldn't mind staring up at them for hours on end, admiring the serenity."

"Things have so drastically changed within the past few weeks. It's hard to believe," I said, taking a gander at the skies overhead.

"All for the better," she giggled.

* * *

Darting from shadow to shadow we observed the ways of the humans. Their customs were so remarkably flawed, yet so simple and at times—admirable. There came a point where remaining inconspicuous proved to be trivial, as we emerged from the stealth of their underworld to the eye of the populous. Blending in came almost by nature, as the two of us experienced treatment all the same. Bustling streets ignored us, implying they knew us to be no different than their own kindred. Motorized machines allowed for quicker transportation, however arbitrary the rulings thereof seemed to be.

Most notability was that of a child, one whose curious mind allowed him the bravery to approach Murugu and tug on her dress. His quizzical expression brightened hers—something that appeared to be in and of itself, human. Its intrigue, and behavior if one were to observe, were innocent. Demonic innocence was a rarity, whereas—based upon my observations—for most human children it was completely natural; astounding.

It wasn't long until we were able to hone onto Yusuke Urameshi's scent. From the vantage of a distant building we spotted him standing with the man whom Murugu identified as the demon that had been projecting himself into the Demon Plane; Toguro. No emotion dared to venture upon his frigid face. Glaring sunglasses and a stature that well towered over my own, it was easy to understand why she felt intimidated by his presence.

The pair stood there, with the few words uttered originating from Toguro. Strange enough, his collected composure was not shared by Yusuke—instead the shrill, but conspicuous fragrance of fear was settled onto his skin. Something was amidst, as the confidence he shone during our battle was but nonexistent.

With a bat of my lashes Toguro's muscle structure began to contract and prosper, doubling in mass. One by one the support pillars to the abandoned building crumbled, with the naif Spirit Detective numb at the knees. So ferocious were his movements, tanking the columns with the mere flex of his bicep. Less than a minute and the structure appeared to implode, crashing down upon itself—layer by layer.

Brute strength was not uncommon in the planes of demon world, but the acceleration... the velocity behind his maneuvers was a seldom assemblage. Perchance at my best he would rival my vitality, but if it were not that of a lie—his strength demonstrated being that of a lowly percentile—there would be no leeway for my own survival if pitted against such a goliath.

Feelings of apprehension swelled over from Murugu—I hadn't noticed I'd became attuned to her emotions. Instinctively, I held her hand—to which she squeezed. Care for another to me was far from domestic, but with each passing moment between us, the struggle of emotional ignorance gradually subsided.

Awestruck Yusuke hadn't bothered to move, allowing the concrete materials to descend upon him. Only a momentary feign and his energy returned; saved by Toguro. Mandatory participation or bathetic slaughter of everyone and everything he had come to love in his short life. A shrewdly played hand, but nevertheless typical of run-of-the-mill demons.

A ferry girl levitated within the clouds, her eyes subsumed with fear. The light sky blue hair and violet eyes—she was that nuisance straying Keiko away from the climax of my narrative. Trembling some meters away stood the impudent Kuwabara. All their moxie that stacked against my forces in the Demon City had drained away, and welded into a bench occupied by Toguro.

Leaving Yusuke at his knees, the ferry girl rushed to his side. Odd, her gestures—her arm around his shoulder and kiss on his lips—did not appear of customs human friendships would entail. Cupping my chin with my hand, I closed my eyes. Resurrection of my fallen comrades would make four, but a fifth... whom in the worlds could I trust as an alley? Murugu would no doubt get along maimed by the combatants, leaving no dice to roll in that particular direction.

"I believe our leave is warranted now," I motioned for her to follow, placing my hood up.


	3. A Matter of Not Losing Heart

**Disclaimer:** It should be obvious I didn't create Yu Yu Hakusho; these things are stupid.

**Chapter III: A Matter of Not Losing Heart**

* * *

"Botan?" he called to her, starring to the skies above.

"Yes Yusuke?" she sat next to him, leaning against the wall.

"Nothing," he sighed.

"You're scared aren't you? You can tell me-" she tried, only to stop due to the expression on his face.

"Y'know somethin'? I am," his head fell back, eyes shutting.

"That's a very brave thing of you to say," she snuggled up next to him.

"I simply do not understand their relationship," I suspired, crossing my arms.

"Mm? It should be obvious at this point," Murugu intervened.

"Do explain."

"Love for him is no different than a candle. Keiko was his flame, and a strong wind extinguished her, therefrom allowing a new spark to carry in and relight the wick," her tone swayed me, soothing my ignorance.

"In love with a ferry girl? My, my," I sat atop the grass, likely appearing aloof to my surroundings.

* * *

Stepping over an alter of my construction, I placed a lock of Byakko's fur on the centerfold. Reaching to the cosmos, I allowed lightning to strike my fingertips. My demonic energy molded the shape of the static, forcing it to align with two large veins in my forearm. A brief chant and the plasma fired into the lock. Much like Murugu's own revival, the white tiger took form through solid lineation. Words of malice and snarls of anger, nothing of value to me. Repeating the process, Seriyu and Genbu resurrected, baring no pleasant formalities.

Shrugging them all with a minuscule—but sound—exposition, I left them to train; their haughtiness shattered, leaving the formidable hubris each of them so heavily carried to die. Training would do them well—intensively with one another of course.

* * *

"Why do you choose to isolate yourself from them?" she questioned, her conscious fading.

"I cannot come to respect such demons anymore," I closed my eyes.

"You believe their ways to be primitive now," she stated, as if reading my mind.

Scooting closer, I wrapped my cloak around her. The night's breeze was beginning to frost her skin, as well as visualize our breaths. Cutting off the howling wind I whispered, "You and I are different, can't you see? We have evolved past their ways, and in the process found something they would never come to understand. Only the fear of domination and power keeps their alliance, nothing more."

"Do you understand it?" she snuggled into me.

"I am only just beginning," I inverted my lips to moisten them.

"How do I make you feel?" her voice softened into nix.

"Different," I chortled quietly.

After a moment of silence she replied in almost a slur, "Oh."

"Come now, you should know that difference is far more than I let on," I protested, rubbing her shoulder.

"Then why let on at all?" her tone slouched.

"If you're truly bothered by my gaiety, then I apologize," I said, kissing her cheek.

"I bring you merriment," she stated as her cheeks began to flush.

"Is something wrong?" I coddled her.

"The feeling of knowing you care—that I make you happy—makes my heart flutter," she nuzzled herself against me.

Rain drizzled and then poured. Several steel platelets shielded our bodies from the winds that blew in delayed intervals. Warmth circulated around us through our demonic auras, whereby they melded together—dancing in subatomic bliss. Thunder softly exploded in the distance—a quaint reminder of home, lulling Murugu to sleep.

Vulnerability etched itself across her face; she was in my possession. It was thereof that in reality itself, I was instilled with the responsibility of looking over my dearest; ensuring her survival, as her life was in my hands, hands that had never ere striven to protect another. One fumble of my fingers and she would be gone. Fragility. Fragility that's comparable to a magnificently thin layer of glass. Any single person held the ability to shatter her, taking her away from my hands, but only if, only if... they were able to rip me away from my responsibility of protecting thy fair maiden. No, that unclothed no possibility whatsoever of occurring. A demon with the intention of harming her hath only one fate; the fate of incineration—its flesh burning as mangled screams of faint vocals exasperate from its throat. No individual would come to lay theirs hands upon Murugu, and I would make sure of that through my own training. That was my reason for power, that was Yusuke's reason for power, that was the unbeknownst shared compassion between demons and humans.

For a moment my thoughts bounced back to reality, listening in on Yusuke's conversation. In the pouring rain he still stood with her, seemingly callous to the environment about him.

"I don't want you to get sick," her voice echoed.

"That ain't somethin' I'm too worried about," he said with a sniffle.

"And why's that?" she asked him, her voice barely managing through the downpour.  
"Because I know that whatever happens to me, I'll always be in good hands with you, Botan," his words came as an astonishment, likely awe-striking her considering the hardly audible sounds emitting from her vocals.

"Sometimes it's really hard containing all the joy you bring me, really it is," she verbalized something of a laugh.

"Yeah, about that..." his voice sulked, fading away at the final syllable.

"What? What is it?" her vox heightened.

"Look, I don't want to hurt Keiko or anything," he said, his sounds noticeably lower in volume than afore.

"I understand; I knew it was too good to be true," she stated, her tone simmering with apathy and perhaps regret.

"Let me finish. I think it'd be best if we let everyone know. About us."

"You mean, you'd be willing to sacrifice your relationship with Keiko, and perhaps even the respect of your- our friends, just for me?" she inquired, the tempo in her prose racing.

"Yeah, of course," he said, pausing for a moment. "Botan, you make me feel a way I can't really explain. Not even Keiko's been able to make me act this way," he informed her, fraudulently coughing.

"Could you try and do your best please?" she spoke softly below the pounding of raindrops.

"Well... it's like this feeling I get in the pit of my stomach; it's like butterflies" he began, "But when I see your face, there's an overwhelming desire to..." his voice parted away.

"Desire to do what, Yusuke?" her timbre beginning to clog.

"To kiss you," he whispered under the rain.

That's all there was to it. Their conversation ended, and it wasn't long until their auras dissipated into the darkness. Humans may have many shared emotions with demons, but their selfish inconsistencies prove to be a fatal flaw So many demons repress any such mutual characteristics, as I had, perchance in fear to the nonuniformities. Then there was the ferry girl. She wooed him, of all possible mates. A human dating Death, how inconceivable. Bedlam was sure to break out the moment the news got out. How would she handle it? Was she guilty of the same defects as humans? If not, he chose wisely in his selection. If so, I severely overestimated the boy.

* * *

Days became weeks, weeks became months, and thenceforth judgment day was at hand. Gloomy clouds rumbled overhead, as if holding some form of consciousness and precognition to the events ahead. Thousands of demons gathered from all directions, with the strongest checking into a hotel for registered participants. In just a day they would know, they would all know, they would fall to their knees and beg for mercy.

Early in the morning I signed our names to the registration comity, leaving the majority of the day to either lounge or indulge upon espionage. For very obvious reasons neither Byakko nor Genbu were able to reside within the hotel, leaving Murugu, Seriyu and I to scope out the competition. However, that was not to say Genbu could not serve a purpose. Given his ability to traverse through solid rock, gathering intelligence about the tournament's proprietors would be a task well within his qualifications. Each of the demons in the lobby glared at every opportunity, and I could not be sure on the exact reason why, but fear was definitely a motivator. Regardless, their unease was too apparent. Fear or confusion, both grasped whereon mayhap hold equal plausibility. Inly through their disgruntled faces, not one appeared to be of Yusuke or his camaraderie. Running late to hither, or dead already; howbeit odds would likely reside on the former.

"Suzaku, I really don't like the way these cretins are staring at me," Murugu whispered into my ear.

"Hmph. They're all scum, nigh the foulest fodder of Demon World's pits," I reassured her.

"Hey! Who're you calling scum!?" a child screeched to us.

Kicking my heel back to the wall, I shifted my weight away to the centerfold space, approaching the boy. "Have you any manners, child?" I loomed over him, yielding not to the deafening silence that had blanketed the room.

"Rinku," a blond haired demon called from across the area, "Don't bother with him, we have more important matters to attend to."

"Eh, I guess so," the child sighed, running off towards the lobby's front doors.

"Petty trash," Seriyu spoke from under his breath, hands behind his back as he eyed out the blond demon.

"Look Zeru! Another team just showed up!" the boy shouted, pointing at a group approaching the building.

"Well it's about time, I was beginning to think we weren't going to meet the infamous Spirit Detective after all," he uncrossed his arms, turning to the door.

"This time, I will not underestimate that traitorous toadstool Hiei," Seriyu followed in suit, everyone eagerly awaiting their entry.


End file.
